


a thousand prisms of light

by buffylovesfaith



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Buffyverse Femslash Challenge, Drabble Collection, Drabbles, F/F, Fluff, One Shot, Short Fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-02-26 04:56:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13228539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buffylovesfaith/pseuds/buffylovesfaith
Summary: “Hi!” Willow says brightly, but quietly, mindful of the time. “I’m so sorry, I know it’s late and—oh no, I see you’re reading and I would hate to interrupt your studying time, studying is important, so I’ll just go--”“It’s okay,” Tara breaks in. “Do you want to...come in?”//assorted femslash prompts from tumblr! pairings and descriptions can be found in the chapter index.





	1. willow/tara - pillows

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place mid season 4.

Tara hears a soft knock at the door, and raises her head in surprise. She puts away her English homework and shuffles over to answer it, wondering who could possibly be there. A faint hope flickers up that it’ll be Willow, but she forces it down. Why would Willow be coming to see her after midnight? But then again, why would anyone be?

She swings the door open, and can’t fight the smile off when it _is_ Willow. 

“Hi!” Willow says brightly, but quietly, mindful of the time. “I’m so sorry, I know it’s late and—oh no, I see you’re reading and I would hate to interrupt your studying time, studying is important, so I’ll just go--”

“It’s okay,” Tara breaks in. “Do you want to...come in?”

Willow swallows. “Okay.” She steps through the door. The two are silent for a few moments, Willow fidgeting anxiously with her hands. 

“I—w-well, I actually came because I was hoping I could ask for a favor?” Willow questions rather than states. 

“Of course, Willow,” Tara murmurs, hoping Willow understands her earnesty. 

“Well, I was just about to go to sleep, and, silly me, I was drinking some juice over my bed, and I spilled it on it—well, on my pillows, and they’re all soaked and I didn’t have any extra ones so I was wondering if I could maybe borrow one of yours for the night? I mean, if you have one you could spare.”

Tara’s confused, thinking that this seems like something Buffy could help Willow with, but she can’t help the burst of happiness that Willow’s coming to _her_. She needs her, if only for something as small as a pillow. 

“Definitely. Here, you can take one from my bed.” She walks over to her double bed and pulls one of the two pillows off, then quickly hops back over to Willow and hands it to her. The pillow is covered in a lavender pillowcase with little black stars, and the cotton feels soft in Willow’s hands. 

“Thanks, Tara! This is really gonna help me out.”

“You’re welcome,” Tara smiles softly. “Hey, wait a minute, I have that spell book I was going to loan to you. Let me go get it, it has lots of great stuff.” The minute Tara walks out of the small bedroom and into the even smaller closet where she keeps her books, Willow lifts the pillow up and presses it to her face. _Mmm_. Before she can pull it down, Tara walks back into the room, but stops awkwardly when she sees what Willow’s doing. 

Willow lowers the pillow, not knowing what to say. Finally she settles on the truth. 

“I, um...I didn’t really spill on my pillows. I—I, I like the way you smell and I wanted to...sleep with it next to me.” Willow grimaces, _Ahhh, I sound like a creepy vampire! Like Spike!_ flashing through her mind. She tries to recover. “It’s—it’s just a comfort thing, ever since I was little I...needed something soft to sleep next to? I mean, I usually don’t sleep very well, and it just helps… I….” she trails off, mortified, sure her cheeks are as red as her hair. She doesn’t dare look up from the floor. 

“So...do you want to spend the night here?”

“ _What?_ ” Willow’s head shoots up to see Tara smiling one of her soft, special, magical smiles.

“Do you want to sleep here? Next to me? You can leave the pillow here too….” She smiles bigger. “Or you can take it, and I’ll see you tomorrow in class. Whatever you want.”

Willow blinks. Her mouth falls open. She’s pretty sure her brain’s broken, and is that drool? Tara looks so... _sexy_ all of a sudden. Womanly. And more importantly, she doesn’t seem to be repulsed by Willow’s clingy-ness.

“O—okay, I’ll stay. But...only if you agree to act as my pillow for the night instead.” Willow blushes as soon as the words are out, but she’s grinning. 

Tara smiles. “Deal. Now come.” She pats the bed that she’s now sitting on, and Willow scampers over immediately. This certainly wasn’t how she’d imagined this night would work out when she’d come over for a few minutes of attempted bumbling flirting, but here, in Tara’s arms, she knows there’s nowhere else on earth she’d rather be.


	2. fred/cordelia - dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place right after Fred comes back from Pylea.

Fred is really messing up Cordelia’s curve at being able to succeed at whatever she tries, because what Cordelia’s trying to do is help her, and she can’t figure out how. It’s been two weeks and Fred barely talks to her, and jumps whenever Cordelia comes around a corner unexpectedly. Cordelia is starting to think that maybe her stubborn-ness powers are wearing off. It’s not a good thought. 

Right now Fred is sitting under the big table, as she’s been doing every day for the past week. No amount of coaxing with chicken wontons will draw her out, Cordelia’s tried everything. So they sit in silence and eat separately while Cordelia reads through some files and Fred quietly hums an unfamiliar tune to herself. 

Suddenly Cordelia sighs loudly, which causes Fred to startle like a scared rabbit. “ _Oww!_ ”

Cordelia drops her files, rushes over, and kneels down. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to, um...scare you.” She doesn’t mention that Fred seems to be scared of an awful lot lately. She’s trying this whole new thing where she keeps her thoughts _inside_ her head. 

Fred looks at the floor. “I—I’m okay! J—just bomped my head. You—I was surprised.”

Cordelia nods. “I’m sorry….Maybe I’ll just...go work in another room?” She doesn’t want to make Fred feel any more uncomfortable than she usually does. It must be hell continuous coming back from Pylea. She starts to rise but is startled by a desperate hand grabbing at her shin. 

“No! I mean, no please...stay. Um, if you want. I—I,” Fred’s eyes flicker to various places in the room as they gather tears. “I don’t want them to get me again.”

“Okay,” Cordelia whispers as she settles herself into a crossed legged position on the floor. This is the first time Fred has seemed at all willing to talk, (at least to Cordelia, and not “beautiful” Angel), since she got here, and Cordelia knows she has to seize this moment. Maybe she _can_ be the one to bring Fred out of her shell after all. She’s the most determined of them all, at least. And through determination, she _always_ gets her way. 

Fred is curled up in a ball in the corner, her arms wrapped around her knees, but she’s looking Cordelia in the eyes. It’s an improvement. “Why, um...why did you sigh?”

_Maybe I can talk until I lull her into a sense of comfort_ , Cordelia ponders. “Oh,” she rolls her eyes, “I was just thinking about how right this very minute Angel is out there helping a ballroom dancer who’s being stalked by a demon, and doing it for _free!_ ” She looks over as Fred has softened at the mention of Angel. “I know you think he’s all your hero and everything, but he’s going to cause this company to go bankrupt before it’s even started.”

But Fred’s looking dreamy and gazing at the far wall with a soft smile. She rests her head against the table leg and strokes the ends of her long, dark hair.

“ _Dancing_ …. I remember that. It was...pretty, fun...I flew through the air...I felt like a fairy.” Now she’s fluttering her finger tips through the space between them, probably imagining they’re little fairy feet, or something. “But...maybe I lost it...while I was _there_.”

Cordelia quickly shakes her head. “No way. That’s not something you can lose. The human body is conditioned for movement. It can remember whatever it’s done before—subconsciously, like, deep inside.” She probably shouldn’t be trying to bullshit Fred, the _physicist_ , but whatever, acting like she’s completely confident in anything she’s saying has always been one of her many gifts. And right not it’s necessary. 

Fred is looking at her with wide, innocent eyes. “Really? But...I don’t know. It really feels like I forgot. They took so much from me.” She looks like she’s going to start crying again, and folds her arms back around herself. “I feel...empty.”

“You’re not empty. Here,” Cordelia holds out a hand. “I’ll help you. You’ll remember right away.”

“You’ll teach me?” Fred’s face is shining, her smile bright and spreading fast across her face. “Wow…. Okay, thank you.” She reaches out and grabs Cordelia’s hand, and Cordelia feels a tingle shoot up her arm. Probably just from the gratitude that Fred is showing her, but still. It’s intense. 

And Cordelia’s finally realized what will bring Fred out from under the table, and out from inside her own mind. _Touch_. Human touch, connection. She wraps her hand tighter around Fred’s and squeezes it close, trying to telepath _you’re not alone, I’m here_ through their linked palms. Neither of them are alone, and they never will be again.


	3. cordelia/buffy - sneakers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cordelia lectures Buffy on her sneakers.  
> Season 3ish au where Cordy and Buffy are rival head cheerleaders for different schools.

“ _Excuse_ me, those are _my_ shoes.”

Buffy looks up to see the familiar face of an angry brunette glaring down at her. “You wear sneakers?”

“ _Yes_ , Buffy, I wear sneakers! I may be a fashion icon but I am also a responsible cheerleader who knows how to keep my feet--and body, _clearly_ \--in shape! It’s not exactly like I can do a tick tock in Marc Jacobs, and as my rival team captain you should know that.”

Buffy makes her eyes go wide and innocent and tries to hold the smirk off of her face. “You _can’t_ do a tick tock.”

Cordelia’s eyes flash. “You weren’t there when it happened, Buffy! I’ve already told you about it at least fifteen thousand times! Don’t act like you don’t know!” 

Buffy crosses her arms over her chest. “She says as if I didn’t find out she was a liar when I asked her to pick up a dress I had on hold at the mall and she told me they “accidentally” put it back and had sold out and then went back two days later and bought it for _herself_.”

Cordelia rolls her eyes. “ _Whatever_. And why are you talking in first person or whatever like that? You’re so _weird_ ,” she sniffs sharply and rolls her eyes, “and anyway, I’m not surprised that _you_ wear sneakers. You probably wear them, like, to _school_. As the kind of “alternative fashion statement” that you think you can pull off. Well, let me tell you, Buffy, there is no alternative to fashion. There’s style, and then what’s adjacent to style—not-style.”

Buffy closes her eyes, a long-suffering, weary look on her face. “Cordy, you’re saying all this as if we don’t have _the exact same sneakers_. As if the whole reason we’re having this conversation is for some reason that’s _other_ than the fact that I picked up your shoes because _we have! The same! Sneakers!_ ”

“It’s not about the sneakers, _Buffy!_ It’s about the fact that they’re covered in some weird dirt, or dust, or—God, I don’t even know what that crud is. But the fact remains that having dirty sneakers is _not_ having style! And I can’t exactly have _my_ girlfriend showing up with completely filthy sneakers to inter-school cheer meets! Especially when she’s my number one enemies head cheerleader! I’m already taking major heat for that from the team, I have _some_ pride you know. I can’t keep my eyes on you when you’re on your own turf, but _please_ , for my reputation’s sake, put some effort in on neutral territory!”

Buffy would be more annoyed if it weren’t for the look of genuine distress in Cordelia’s eyes. She knows how much cheering and social type stuff means to Cordelia, and this whole lesbian enemies relationship has been hard on her. Buffy tries to keep her scowl going but can already feel a fond, silly smile taking over. 

So she leans forward and gives her brunette bombshell a soft, sensual kiss on the lips, not caring if fifteen horny teenage footballers are watching. “Okay, babe. I’m sorry. I’ll...try harder, okay?” _Guess I’ll have to start wiping my shoes off every time I slay now._ She tries to sound sincere, but a little hint of sarcasm still creeps in. Luckily Cordelia doesn’t notice, just heaves a sigh of relief. 

“ _Thank you_ , Buffy. It means a lot. And I didn’t mean to sound like you don’t look cute and hot, ‘cause you do. A lot.” She straightens up and seemingly tries to shake herself out of her sappy mood. “It’s just. Presentation is everything.”

Buffy grins sneakily and reaches a hand under Cordelia’s uniform skirt to grab her ass. “Oh, I know, babe. _I know_. And between the two of us, we’ve got more than enough to share.” The two kiss until they’re panting and red in the face, and the field is filled with the sound of catcalls.

Cordelia pulls away with a low _mmm_ and fixes Buffy with an impish smile. “And I don’t know what you’re complaining about, I _totally_ let you borrow that dress.”


	4. faith/fred - aliens

“Let’s ask each other if we believe in stuff,” Fred suggests as they’re laying lazily in bed together, smoking a joint and wearing nothing but t-shirts, socks, and underwear. Their limbs are curled around each other’s as they watch the smoke drift up to the ceiling in the low light of their funky lava lamp. 

“Whadaya mean? Like, God?” Faith snickers. “Yeah, at this point I’m not too sure if I believe in the big guy. I think the smoke’s goin’ to your head.”

Fred struggles to sit up. “No! Not _religiousy_ stuff. Just stuff about life, like, donuts or solipsism.”

“Donuts or solipsism, huh?” Faith smiles and kisses Fred on the forehead. “You’re cute. And hell yeah, I’d worship at the Church of Donuts. Probably the only one I would. Solipsism, I don’t know what the hell that shit is. Some kinda disease?”

Fred giggles. “Solipsism is basically the theory that only your own mind exists, and you create the reality around you. There’s no definite proof that anyone or anything that you see is really there and not a figment of your imagination. So, like, I would have created you just because I _wanted_ you and not because you’re really _alive_ …,” she rambles on until she catches sight of the bubbles forming in the lamp. She stares at them with heavy eyes, her mouth forming silent words as she counts each one popping up. Faith just gazes at her, a sappy smile on her face— _she’s so goddamn cute_ —until she pulls Fred back into her arms again. 

“Thanks, babe. That was very infor—informational?—informative.” The weed’s making her brain slower than normal. 

“Mmm,” Fred snuggles her face into the warmth of Faith’s neck. “Now you ask me one.”

“Okay, uh...batman.”

“Oh, batman _definitely_ exists.” Fred knows that any other answer would absolutely unacceptable to her girlfriend. 

“Damn straight. You’re turn.”

“Hmm...aliens?”

Faith _had_ believed in aliens. When she was a kid she’d believed in them so hard that she’d been convinced a few of those guys were gonna come down to earth and haul her onto their spaceship and take her away. She’d watched out of her bedroom window every night but they never came. Just more people that had never shown up for her, only this time a whole other species. “I dunno.” She clears her throat. “What about you?”

“Oh, yes. Scientifically, there’s around a fifty percent chance that aliens exist. But I think it’s even more likely than that. With how many universes there are out there, how many different climates, how many possibilities there would be for different life forms that could survive in much different environments than us, I think it would be impossible that there wouldn’t be other beings out there. Humans tend to think of themselves as very big and the world as very small, but it’s pretty much the total opposite.”

Faith just looks down at Fred (who, eyes closed, is oblivious to her girlfriend’s intense stare) and ignores the ash that’s falling onto her bedspread. “You can say that again.” She smiles and cuddles herself closer to her girlfriend, oddly comforted by her words. She used to resent the fact that aliens could exist and just hadn’t come for her and had put the thought out of her mind, refusing to believe in _anything_ anymore, but now the thought is comforting once again. The idea that maybe everything she’s done, everything that’s been done to her, none of it matters. The world is big and no one really knows anything about it (except maybe her genius girlfriend, but that’s like one person out of millions.) Like, there’s freaking _aliens_ out there. And after all, why should aliens have to come down to earth and interact with idiotic humans just ‘cause she wanted them to? She certainly can’t blame them for just staying where they were. 

“Love?” Fred asks with a small smile, nudging Faith’s foot with her own stocking-ed one, and jarring her out of her thoughts. 

“I never used to,” Faith whispers, answering honestly. “But I do now, baby. I do now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made up most of Fred's sciencey babble (I'm not smart enough to keep up with her).  
> Also this is the wORST THING I'VE EVER WRITTEN. I love them but I can't write them properly (especially Fred), I'm sorry! I'm giving up on this one.


	5. buffy/willow - braiding hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> takes place season 2ish

“But you’re, like, the girliest girl I know, Buff! Heck, you’re probably the girliest girl _most_ people know. How do you not know how to braid?”

Buffy shrugs, unconcerned. “I don’t know. I guess I never really had to learn. My mom did my hair when I was little, and then at school I always had people who wanted to do it for me….” She frowns. “That doesn’t make me sound too good, does it?”

Willow grins. “It’s okay. I know you’ve moved past your teen queen past. You’re hanging out with me, for one thing.”

“Aw, Will, teen queen me doesn’t know what she was missing.”

Willow giggles shyly and pats her bed. “Sit down, I’ll teach you. It’s really easy.”

Buffy settles down. “Oh, good. The more skills I learn, the best Buffy I...turn into?” She shakes her head. “Or something to that affect. But I gotta say—easy for you, not so easy for other people, especially me.” She grabs one of the redhead’s pale hands and squeezes. “My Willow’s a genius.” Willow blushes a deep shade of crimson, ducks her head, and begins softly combing through Buffy’s shiny blonde hair with her fingers. 

Buffy closes her eyes, enjoying the feel of her best friend softly stroking her scalp.

“That feels great, Will,” she whispers, sinking down into Willow’s soft mattress. 

“O—okay, well, good. I mean, that’s what it’s supposed to feel like. Not that it’s supposed to feel _good_ necessarily but it shouldn’t feel _bad_ , I don’t want to hurt you! I—” Buffy cuts off Willow’s stammering, gracefully not mentioning a thing.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be teaching me something here? Make with the lecture. I’ll be a good student.”

“For once?” Willow murmurs snarkily. Buffy can practically hear her proud smirk. It’s so cute.

But she plays along and gasps, trying to sound offended for all she’s worth. “Hey, you know I do it for you! You’ve always been able to whip me into shape. Oh and thanks for all the studying help by the way, in case I didn’t mention it before….” she finishes in a sheepish mumble. Hey, at least she started off strong!

Willow smiles. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, here. You start with one piece, and you bring it over and under. Then you grab the piece on the opposite side and do the same thing. Keep going, picking up from either side, alternating, till it’s finished. See? Easy. You’ll be braiding like an...expert-braiding thing in no time.”

Buffy feels the back of her head. “Ooh, sleek. Thanks, Will. Bet these babies won’t come out during tonight’s slay. And I think I even kind of get what you were doing back there.” She turns around. “Now, since you taught me something, it’s time for me to teach you something.”

She has an intense glint in her eye. It makes Willow scared. Well, maybe scared isn’t _exactly_ the right word, but...

“W—what are you gonna teach me?”

“Hmm, let me think...what do I know that Willow doesn’t know?” Buffy taps her chin and purses her lips, looking thoughtful. “Hey, Will...have you ever kissed a girl?”

“W—what?” Willow’s pretty sure her eyes just fell out of her head.

“You know. _Girl_. Lip gloss? Long hair? Pretty dresses? Well, that’s _most_ girls anyway. Ringing any bells?”

“Um,” Willow swallows, her throat going as dry as the Sahara. “Yes—I know—girl. And no, um, n—no to the k—kissing. Of. Them.”

Buffy brightens. “Well, I have. So I can teach you that!”

Willow swallows again. “When—when did you…?”

“At cheer camp. Everyone was doing it, so of course I had to, too. I had a reputation to uphold. At the time.”

“Cheer camp doesn’t sound like somewhere you can gain much expertise…. Maybe, like, the kissing Olympics,” Willow says faintly. She has no idea what she’s saying. She has lost total control of her motor functions, and she’s pretty sure she’s about to pass out.

Buffy slaps Willow in the knee. “Hey, I still learned some stuff! This is the _one_ thing I know that you don’t. Let me have it. So, are you ready? Do you want me to show you?”

“O...kay,” Willow hears herself saying. And then she feels a pair of soft lips collide with and press softly against her own. She tastes Buffy sticky vanilla lipstick. She feels her pink lips—she had noticed that they were a very bright shade of pink in the past, well not really bright, more like _vibrant_ —sliding over her own, her cool breath hitting right above her own mouth, causing her to shiver. For a few seconds, Willow’s suspended, floating. Then Buffy pulls away.

“So? Did that teach you anything?” Buffy looks bright-eyed, hopeful. 

“Lots,” Willow answers, mind still racing. She doesn’t think Buffy knows how true that is. She doesn’t think she, Willow _herself_ , knows yet just how very true that is.


	6. anya/tara - puppies

Tara tries to enter the house that she shares with her girlfriend—that she’s shared with her for two years now—and finds that her key won’t work. It feels like something heavy’s pushed up against the front door. And beyond that, there’s the smell of burning sandalwood and high pitched screaming coming from inside. 

“Go! Go! _Begone_ evil, fluffy, demon-thing!” Anya’s high pitched, terrified shriek calls out. A loud _thump_ follows it.

Tara’s at a point in her life where she knows who she is, and more importantly who she’s _not_ , but the harsh words still cause her throat to close up, slightly. A reflex she continues to work on. She knocks on the door.

“An? Baby?”

The yelling stops, for a second. “Tara? Are you alone?”

Tara looks around. “Of—of course. Are you okay? What’s going on?”

There’s a loud scraping sound and then the door suddenly opens. Anya pops a head and arm out and hustles Tara inside. 

“Sorry, I thought you were the horrible creature. Here, take this stick!” She shoves what appears to be a broken table leg into Tara’s hands. Then she darts around and hovers, quivering, behind Tara’s back. 

“Um...what for?” Tara asks cautiously. 

“For whacking the thing on the head if he gets inside! Just in case, I’ve barricaded it pretty well.”

“Oh...I’m not really the whacking type….” Tara says absentmindedly as she fingers the rough weapon and surveys the state of their house. Books and spell ingredients lie in a messy pile on the hardwood floor, and two crude symbols are painted on the front-facing windows. Their bedroom dresser sits pushed aside from where it had stood guarding the front door, the bits that remain of their coffee table—obviously where Anya had gotten her makeshift club from—rest in a pile in top. “D—did you get into the magic stuff?” Tara chooses not to mention the furniture. 

“What?” Anya blinks. “Oh, yes. I know it’s for emergencies, but if this isn’t an emergency I don’t know what is! I couldn’t make the spell work right, though, yellow daisies kept popping up—but you’re a witch, so you can do it and protect me!”

Tara reaches behind herself to stroke Anya softly on the arm, trying to calm her. “Baby, I’ll protect you from anything—even if it means whacking,” she smiles wryly. “Nobody’ll hurt my girl. But can you tell me what’s going on?”

Anya grabs Tara’s arm and drags her over to the makeshift spell-casting station. “Come here, I’ll show you. This one should do it,” she jabs her finger at a line in an open book, “ _will banish any and all evil creatures that may set foot on your property, back to Hell from whence they came_ —see?”

Tara nods. “Yes, I see. But...what kind of evil creature is it?”

Anya shakes her head, her eyes wide. “I don’t know! But it was—furry, and round, and had these floppy ears and eyes that glowed in the dark, and it made this... _whining_ noise. Definitely a minion of evil of the worst kind!”

Tara pauses, her mind whirring. “A bunny? Honey, I don’t think we should be banishing bunnies t—to, um...H—Hell.” She hates that word. “Maybe we could just...call someone to come pick it up? Maybe Xander? He should be getting off of work around now….”

Anya scowls, momentarily distracted. “Ew, please no, I don’t want to see _him_ right not, I’ve dealt with enough for today, if I do say so myself.” Then her expression shifts and she frowns, looking offending. “And it wasn’t a bunny! _Believe_ me, _I_ know what bunnies look like and if it was one it’d be going to Tartarus, not just Hell,” she shakes herself out of her bunny-induced rage. “ _This_ was evil.”

Tara nods. “Okay, well let me gather some ingredients, and I’ll—” she cuts herself off as a small whimper cuts through the air, coming from the direction of their front porch. It sounds...cute. Definitely not terrifying or evil. She keeps her thoughts off of her face, though, not wanting Anya to feel bad. 

“Um….” she says slowly, trying to think. “I think I’m gonna just...go check...try to see if I can figure out what it is….”

“No!” Anya screeches, catching Tara’s arm. “It’ll get you! I can’t have my girlfriend die, what would I do? Be a spinster?!”

“I think you’d figure something out,” Tara says lightly. “But I’ll be fine, don’t worry, hon. Here, I’ll even take the stick, okay?” She coos reassuringly as she picks the piece of wood up, and Anya, despite her bad feelings about the whole situation, follows closely behind Tara as she creeps towards the door. 

Tara opens it slowly to reveal a small, amber-colored puppy whose sad, wet eyes make Tara’s heart flutter in her chest. She smiles.

“It’s only a puppy, baby, see? Come look—look how cute. Definitely—um, probably not of the evil variety.”

Anya peeks her head around, looking unconvinced. “Hmmm.”

Tara hooks an arm around her girlfriend’s side. “I’ll do a spell to check it for any intention to harm, okay?” she asks, kissing Anya on the cheek. 

“Okay. It _is_ rather adorable. I like the color. Kind of reminds me of you with your soft, luscious hair and big eyes. Except I don’t want to have sex with it.” Anya states casually as she winds a piece of Tara’s hair around her finger. 

Tara chokes. “O—okay. Um, t—thanks. I’m...gonna start the spell.” She holds a hand out toward the dog and scans it’s aura, little sparks shooting out from the surface of her palm. “All clear,” she smiles at Anya. “It’s a good doggy. Can we...bring it inside?”

“Okay!” Anya smiles widely. “But it can’t be in the room during our orgasm time. That’s just for us.”

“Oh, of course,” Tara says solemnly as she scoops the puppy up from the step and starts up the staircase. 

“ _Ooh!_ And just think of all the money we’ll save on rodent control!” she hears Anya exclaim excitedly from behind her as they head to the bedroom to start welcoming their new family member home.


End file.
